


Sex Ed With Skye

by atomicsupervillainess, memorizingthedigitsofpi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marvin Gaye - Freeform, Post-Finale, Smut, alien plant sex pollen, ao3 tag generator, at least Pi's bringing the mai tais, crack!fic, definitely going to hell for this, ish, soulful scientific oral, summer hiatus fic countdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:52:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4342067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomicsupervillainess/pseuds/atomicsupervillainess, https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/pseuds/memorizingthedigitsofpi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jemma comes back after journeying through the rock, she brings a strange plant with her. When our favourite scientists investigate it, things get a bit ... intense, and Skye learns a thing or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex Ed With Skye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unspoken_and_wild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unspoken_and_wild/gifts).



It was a hassle, but after Simmons returned through the Kree stone from Soulworld, dragging Trip limply in her wake, they’d all agreed it was for the best.

So the Koenigs had drafted a policy, and Coulson had approved the schedule, and while Skye generally hated going through the weekly security feeds, this week had been stressful, to say the least. She could use some alone time, just her and some mind-numbing busywork. Seriously, no one had told her what drama queens inhumans could be.

Lincoln was babysitting the raw recruits, so she was okay with stealing a little special alone time to destress. She’d start with the lab cameras and go from there.

Skye leaned as far back as the desk chair could go, propping her feet up on the desk and crossing her ankles. Remote in hand, she flicked the play button and dug into her bowl of popcorn.

The screen flashed static as the timestamp rolled, slowing and clearing when the motion sensors caught movement.

The popcorn bowl clattered to the ground, spilling kernels across the floor as Skye’s hands flew to cover her eyes.

“That is _not_ what I meant by special alone time!” she screeched.

* * *

 “It’s just such an amazing specimen,” Jemma said, her voice full of awe. “The fullness here, and the smoothness of the stem is just…” she paused, eyes wide and brows raised. “ _Very_ impressive.”

Fitz scoffed and waved her hand away from the ball sac. “It’s not _that_ fascinating,” he said, gripping the shaft and giving it a swift stroke. “I mean,” he said, using a test tube to gather up the clear liquid that oozed out of the top, “Alien or not, it’s still just a _plant_.”

Jemma rolled her eyes at Fitz’s continued disinterest in anything organic that wasn’t food. “‘ _Just a plant_ ’,” she said, sarcastically finger-quoting. “Don’t you realize the possibilities inherent in this discovery?” she asked impatiently.

Fitz blew out a frustrated breath and put the sample of plant liquid down on the table between them. “ _Yes_ , Jemma,” he answered, just as impatiently. “But seeing as we already _know_ that life exists on other planets, and seeing as how _we_ won’t be the ones _visiting_ those other planets, the ‘ _possibilities_ ’,” now he was finger-quoting her, “Just mean a bunch more work for us to do when we’ve already got more than 5 normal people could handle!”

“But _Fitz_!” she protested, obviously getting warmed up for a banner argument.

“Look,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and holding one hand up to stop her. “You do… whatever it is that you need to do with the plant,” he gestured towards it. “And I’ll get back to the little matter of designing a new Bus.” His shoulders slumped as he turned to the mass of technical drawings and blueprints on his desk.

Jemma took a breath to keep fighting but then decided better of it. He was being pushed pretty hard to get the new Bus into production, and she could understand why he wouldn’t want to spend too much of his time working on what was definitely a biological project.

“Alright,” she said, nodding in agreement.

“Good.”

“Music?”

“Please.”

She turned on her speakers and queued up a playlist that they both enjoyed. She smiled at the first few strains of the familiar song.

And that’s when she saw the plant _move_.

“Fitz,” she gasped, pointing at the specimen. “Did you _see_ that?”

Fitz twisted around from the workbench he’d stationed himself at. “See what?” he asked, half-curious and half-frustrated.

“The music! Hurry!” she commanded, waving him over emphatically. “You have to see this!”

Simmons was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her face all lit up with enthusiasm. For a moment, Fitz allowed himself to enjoy the picture she made with her hair (longer these days) slapping against her back as she thrummed with energy. She was like a five year old waiting for a carnival ride. He felt a dopey smile tugging at his mouth, and pushed himself out of his chair.

They hadn’t managed their date. Not after everything. First with quarantine, and then with the whole ‘dragging Trip back from the brink of death’ thing, and then with trying to figure out how exactly to keep him together when he kept bursting into kinetic particulates every time someone so much as sneezed. Thank heavens for Dr. Garner because the former Specialist was dealing with a very strong case of PTSD. After all of that, they’d fallen back into old routines, somehow, like a safety net that had tangled them up and strangled them back into limbo.

He slotted himself in beside her at the lab bench, huffing in annoyance. On top of all _that_ , there were the Kree. Oh the Kree. Simmons _bloody loved_ the Kree. Kree this, Kree that, Kree homeworld, Kree plant -

“Bloody Kree,” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at the oddly shaped plant, waiting for….something. “Well?” he gestured at what seemed to be nothing.

“Just watch,” Jemma instructed, increasing the computer’s volume and restarting the song.

The familiar strains of Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing echoed in the empty lab. 

> _Oh baby,_
> 
> _Make me feel so fine_
> 
> _Helps to relieve my mind_
> 
> _Sexual_

“What. The. _Hell_.” Fitz breathed leaning in closer to the angry red stamen, “Did it just -”

“ _Move_ ,” Jemma breathed, mirroring his movement and leaning in closer to the plant’s oversized, tightly closed buds. “Its reacting to the music, I think! I’m hypothesizing a sort of variant of the Liliacae - but these flowers, they share a distinct familiarity with _Dionaea muscipula_ \- the vulvaceous petals themselves are -”

 _“Simmons,_ ” Fitz interrupted.

“But of course, species development, even in the Plantae kingdom is -”

“Simmons,” Fitz insisted, grabbing her hand to pull her closer.

“-If it even _is_ Plantae! I mean, xenobiologically speaking, it _may_ even be of the Kingdom Animalia!” She turned to Fitz, scrunching her nose in her eagerness. “Isn’t this _fascinating_ , Fitz?”

> _Sexual healing_ -

“Simmons!” he finally cried out in exasperation. At last, she turned to follow his gaze. “What’s it doin’?”

> _Sexual healing is something that’s good for me_

They both leaned in closer toward the oozing bud. Something seemed to be gathering in the stem. The neck of the plant pulled back until it suddenly pulsed forward, spewing a stringy fluid all over their faces.

Fitz immediately sputtered and gagged, his face contorting rapidly into disgust. “Ew! What is- What’s happen- _Get it off_!” he shouted, getting increasingly louder as his hands proved useless in wiping the stuff off his face.

Simmons moved brusquely, slamming her hand down on the panic button that would close off the lab for quarantine and then carefully scooping some of the sticky substance into a test tube for further analysis. Only then did she attempt to remove the viscous, sticky fluid from her face.

“Calm down, Fitz,” she said in a tight voice trying not to move her lips too much. Ingestion of foreign plant material was ill-advised, even when the plant in question was terrestrial. When it came from another planet? She mentally kicked herself for not insisting they wear full biohazard suits while they worked with it.

“ _Calm down_?” he shrieked, obviously content to do the exact opposite. “How d’you expect me to bloody well ‘ _calm down_ ’,” he affected her accent as he said it, “When I’ve got some alien plant’s splooge all over my face?”

“I expect you to calm down,” she said in an eerily relaxed tone, “Because if you get too _excited_ ,” her voice started to rise slightly in anger. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding her hands flat out in front of her to calm herself down again. “If you get too excited,” she said again, “You might accidentally ingest some of the, as you called it, ‘plant splooge,’ and we have no idea what effect that might have.”

That froze him in his tracks. He stopped short, one hand still pawing at his face and the other attempting to shake off the sticky strings of mucus that were stuck to it. “Ingest?” he asked, and the look on his face showed that he hadn’t thought of that until just this moment. “You mean, like…”

“Like get some in your mouth when you’re shouting?” Jemma asked, moving about the lab to find a solution they could use to clean themselves. “Yes, like that.”

Fitz licked his lips nervously. Then he cursed. “Fuck!”

“What?” Jemma asked, looking up from where she was investigating a cupboard.

Fitz pushed a hand into his hair to brush it back and cursed again as he spread the goo in a large clump through his fringe. “God _damn_ it!” He wrenched his hand free from his hair and looked around desperately for something he could clean it off with. He felt like he was in the middle of one of his nightmares.

Jemma came over and poured some mineral spirits onto a towel before offering it to him. “Wipe,” she said briefly.

Fitz immediately began to settle when the substance started to come off. “Thank god,” he muttered. “Thought I’d never get it off.” He worked industriously for a moment but continued to feel Jemma’s eyes on him.

“What did you do?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I might have…” he trailed off.

She crossed her arms and waited.

“ _Accidentally_ ,” he continued.

She tilted her head and set her mouth in a flat line.

“Inge-”

“Oh, _Fitz_!” she threw up her hands. “What did I _just_ tell you?” she asked in frustration.

“I know, but…”

“Do you even listen to me at all? I swear…”

“I didn’t _mean_ …”

“... _ompletely_ irresponsi…”

“...ident, really!”

“...ust _not eat_ the strange plant goo. How hard is that?” She was just hitting her full voice when she coughed suddenly and then swallowed.

“Oh no,” she said, her eyes wide with horror.

Fitz looked immensely satisfied. “You too?”

* * *

  _Two Hours Later…_

“-You?” Fitz asked, flicking his eyes up from the tablet in his hands as he slouched in his desk chair. The dwarves were zooming around them, scanning their biochemical signatures: heat signs, heart rates, anything that could point to a contamination. They beeped in unison.

Simmons shrugged. “Yes. I feel fine. But that does not mean quarantine is over, Fitz.”

“-But it’s the season premiere!” he whined, tipping his chin down tightly, staring down at Simmons where she kneeled in front of him. Her gloved hands were pulling up the strip of buttons, peering under his shirt.

“I know I saw abrasions earlier,” she muttered, standing up and stepping back. She leaned against the holotable and stared at him inscrutably.

“Listen, we’re fine, the plant’s fine, the lab’s fine. Doctor Who is starting in ten minutes! We can just keep it hush-hush. I mean, we are the heads of the Science Division,” he wheedled, thumb pointing in the direction of the door.

If they hurried, they could make it. And the common room couch was bound to be free, with the rest of the team on a mission. It was just them. Plus, the bloody common room was bound to be cooler than the lab. He’d have to fiddle with the H-VAC tomorrow because the temperature seemed to have climbed at least five degrees.

“That’s just it, Fitz,” Simmons sighed heavily. “ _We’re_ the heads of the Science Division. It’s up to us to lead by example and follow proper emergency protocols! On top of that, there’s no telling how human physiognomy actually reacts to alien organics. For all we know, we could be overlooking something major! Remember the chitauri helmet?”

Fitz suppressed a shiver. “Don’t remind me,” he said heavily.

Simmons crossed the room and laid a hand on his arm. “It seems I have to,” she gave him a commiserating smile. “No Doctor Who tonight, I’m afraid.”

Her smile began to morph, bowing up at the corners impishly. “But just think, we can run all sorts of tests, take samples, compile data points! Why, we have the opportunity to be the first humans to ever study this! It’s actually a bit _thrilling_!”

“Hurray. _Such_ fun. And what shall we title this study, hmm, Simmons? A longitudinal study of Xenoplantae Post-coital boredom?” He pulled off his cardigan and pushed his shirt sleeves up.

“It’ll be just like that semester at the Academy!” Jemma crowed, gathering the slides and syringes she’d need to collect samples. She skipped happily towards Fitz, who was slumping dejectedly onto the med table.

“You’re a bloody vampire, woman,” he grumbled, watching her distracted approach. Her face was flush with excitement - although it could have just as easily been the heat, he rationalized. She brushed past his feet, setting up the syringe for a blood sample at the counter close to his elbow.

Fitz was leaned back on his palms, observing her busy movements. Suddenly, he caught sight of a line of tiny droplets of sweat forming at the nape of her neck. Something trilled up his spine, shooting him up attentively. He leaned forward, inching nearer, the heat pricking along his skin as he scooted down the med table to position himself closer behind her. He stared as a single drop coursed down the long line of her neck, disappearing below the collar of her lab coat.

Something walloped him in the chest, causing the breath to exhale from his body in a heady rush. He watched a shiver rattle across her shoulders and goosebumps prick up her flesh.

Another drop streamed in a tiny rivulet.

He surged closer, his legs bracketing her hips. He was riveted. His world crumpled in until it was nothing but the smell of Jemma’s hair, the sound of her breath, the - _fuck_ \- the sweat on her skin.

“ _Fitz_ ,” Jemma breathed shakily, leaning back into him despite herself. The millimeters between them felt too far, too much like miles, too much like light years, too much like the month and a half she’d been gone, “What are y-”

Another droplet was snaking a slow, serpentine path down the column of her throat. Delicately, he pulled the collar of her lab coat away from her skin, and dipped his head down to capture it, carefully, on the tip of his tongue. A low sound escaped from him as his lips pressed hot and moist against the finial of her spine.

Her eyes closed as the soft, wet, warmth of his tongue connected with her skin, the heat of his lips rivalling the heat of the air around them.

“Jemma,” he moaned against her neck, and his hands trailed down from her collar along her arms to capture her hands. He threaded his fingers between hers and slid off the med table to press his body full against her back.

She licked her lips and arched into him, grinding her ass back into his hips. His answering push was welcomed by her widening her stance, and she leaned forward against the lab bench in front of her. She pulled their joined hands to her hips and then slipped hers free to work the buttons on her blouse while his stayed behind and gripped her tight.

“I’m so hot,” she panted, sliding one hand down her rapidly revealing cleavage.

“ _So_ hot,” Fitz agreed, pulling at her lab coat until it slid down her arms and off.

She spun in place to face him, the flush on her face trailing down to her chest which was rising and falling in time to her gasping breaths.

They paused like that, her leaning with her back against the bench and him holding her lab coat uselessly in his hands. Their eyes met, held, bored deep into each other’s, and an almost electric tension filled the space between them.

And then, in a rushed blur of movement, Fitz threw her lab coat on the floor, stepped even closer to her, and caught her around the waist. Her arms went immediately around his neck as he picked her up and put her on the edge of the counter before stepping between her thighs.

Jemma pulled him into her embrace with her arms and her legs and her eyes, and then their lips touched and she realized that no matter how close she pulled him, he’d never be close enough. The hard outline of his cock pressed deliciously against the front of her jeans, making her gasp.

Her fingertips slipped down the neck of his undershirt, brushing against a raised mole.

Three raised moles.

Three raised moles Leo Fitz did not have.

With a strangled whimper, Jemma wrenched herself away from the hot press of his body and rolled awkwardly off of the counter. Something clenched deep and hard in her stomach, toppling her to her knees.

“Take off your shirt,” she begged through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, okay!” Unthinking and enthusiastic, Fitz dropped down beside her, his hands fisting into the back of his shirts to pull them swiftly over his head. He dropped the fabric and surged forward, his fingers tangling in her hair as his lips descended upon hers.

She groaned, pressing up against him, her tongue drifting traitorously against the seam of his mouth. He deepened the kiss, sucking her tongue as she shuddered needfully, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

Suddenly, she broke the kiss, pushing him back hard. Flabberghasted, he tipped over, hitting his head sharply against the leg of a counter. “Jemma?” Confusion lanced through his arousal.

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut. “Turn around - You need to turn around!” A sudden cramp seized her, doubling her over. “I need to examine you.”

She heard the rustle of movement, and when she was sure there was no chance of falling into the deep well of desire that flooded her system every time she looked into his eyes, she approached, careful to keep her distance.

“Oh no. Oh Fitz.” she said, falling back down, crossing her legs and sitting on her hands, fighting the urge to reach for him. She cleared her throat and shook her head, trying to clear the haze of lust that clouded her brain. “Fitz, I need you to examine me,” she declared, her tone sharp and professional.

Fitz’s eyes widened in surprised pleasure. While he knew that Jemma had got up to a few naughty things in the lab back in their Academy days, he couldn’t quite believe that she’d be up for it in the Playground. He had no idea she liked roleplay, either.

Sliding over to her on his knees, he leaned back and slowly unbuckled his belt, licking his lips as he slithered it through the loops on his jeans. The whispers of the leather against denim were just barely audible over Jemma’s panting breaths.

“Paging Dr. Fitzy?” he asked in a teasing growl. He folded his belt in half and used it to push her blouse further open. Her tits looked fantastic all pushed up by her bra, and the way they were rising and falling like that was causing sharp explosions to pop somewhere below his stomach, and his entire brain was just a haze of lust.

Jemma swallowed harshly at his tone and could barely take her eyes off the strained fly of his jeans. He was kneeling by her shoulder. If she leaned up just so… She shook her head and groaned, trying to regain control of her thoughts. “Help me with these,” she said, nodding towards her jeans. Then she sat up again and removed her blouse entirely.

Fitz watched for a moment as the silky garment fluttered into a pile on the floor, and then he was pushing Jemma down onto her back and attacking her button and zip. His fingers were like sausages, not doing what he told them to do, and he cursed under his breath. Clenching his teeth and barely breathing at all, he focused laser-like on the task before him and finally managed to undo her fly. With a wicked grin, he took her waistband in his hands and tugged.

Once her jeans were past her knees, Jemma rolled over and up onto all fours in her bra and panties. She arched her back, pushing her ass into the air, and tried to focus on the way the floor felt so gloriously cool under her hands. And then she felt Fitz’s hands sliding slowly up her calves and thighs until they were gripping her cheeks firmly.

Fitz leaned forward to kiss her cotton-covered bottom, smiling and nipping at it gently with his teeth. He could eat it like an apple. As one hand moved up her back and into her hair to push her head towards the floor, the other one crept up between her thighs to find the hot, wet entrance that awaited him.

“It’s a good thing you came in to see me, Ms. Simmons,” Fitz said in official tones as his fingers moved back and forth along her lips, separated from them only by the cotton of her panties. “You seem to be in desperate need of an injection.”   _An injection of Fitz_ , he grinned to himself.

Jemma gasped and moaned into the tiles of the floor as she tried to remember what it was she was meant to be doing. Something about an examination. And her back?

“ _Shit_ ,” she breathed, somehow finding the self-discipline to swat his hands away. Thinking quickly, she grabbed Fitz’s discarded belt, and sat up on her heels, pushing Fitz back against the opposite counter.

“ _Ooh_ ,” Fitz encouraged, his eyes widening as Jemma took control of the situation and slid into his lap. “Ms. Simmons, you’re an awfully unmanageable patient! Am I gonna have to restrain you?”

Jemma bit her bottom lip between her teeth. _Just once_ , she told herself, _Just once, just to relieve the ache_. She rolled her hips forward, catching the crotch of her panties against the hard ridge of his cock. His head knocked back against the countertop as hers fell forward against his lips. He pressed a row of kisses against her brow as she started to undulate slowly, her hands reaching down to twine with his.

She pulled his hands up sharply. “No, Dr. Fitzy,” she exhaled hotly, her mouth against the shell of his ear. “I’m going to have to restrain _you_.”

She caught the lobe of his ear between her teeth and, quickly and expertly, she used his belt to secure his hands to the tall pipe that supported the counter and drawers above, as if she’d done it many times before.

“Oh _yeah_ , Jemma,” his mouth dropped open in surprise, his cock twitching hard against his pants. He moved to kiss her, but she leaned back out of his reach, sliding off his lap and turning around.

“Tell me what you see,” she insisted, sweeping her hair off her shoulders.

Was this a test? Fitz, inhaled, trying to figure out what sort of dirty talk she could be looking for. “Erm, I uh, I see a hot...”

Jemma was nodding, reaching up for a pencil and a clipboard.

“Hot girl - _lady_ ,” he corrected, licking his lips. Tension was beginning to knot up in his stomach. God he just wanted her so badly, wanted his hands on her, his mouth, wanted to - _fuck_ \- wanted to be inside her, hear her -

“Elevated temp -” Jemma’s voice cut out in a high intake of breath, “Temperature. Good, go on.”

“A sexy uh, really sexy, like, erm,” he cast about, feeling an urgent need coiling inside him painfully. “Fuck, Jemma, your shoulders - they’re… and your freckles, like someone spilled a whole bucket of ‘em...”

“Oh yes!” she cried ecstatically. “Marks! Moles or...” she doubled over again, clutching at her waist. “Do you see anything new?”

A sharpness stabbed through his intestines, hard enough to make him cringe. The fog of lust cleared momentarily. That was when he noticed it.

“Three raised spots, on your shoulder,” he said. “Like hives, or -” The pain bayoneted him again, cutting off his words with a strangle, “- Barbs,” he managed.

“Thorns!” Jemma choked out. “The plant it…” she clutched at her stomach as another wave of pain crashed through her. Something was jogging at the back of her mind, and if she could only _concentrate_ , maybe she could--

“It’s why we’re…” Fitz continued, grunting out a pained moan as his insides knotted up even more. “Is it poison?” he panted through clenched teeth.

“Or venom,” Jemma pounded a fist against the floor and pushed herself back into a sitting position facing Fitz. Her whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his was too. She knew she should be concentrating on what was happening to them, but all she could focus on was the way his jaw muscles moved as he clenched and unclenched his teeth and the trickle of sweat that was working its way down his throat and over his chest.

It was just so _hot_ in there. She reached behind herself to unclasp her bra and fling it to the side, then she wiggled out of her damp panties. Naked, she lay down spread eagled on the cool lab floor, hoping it might act like ice and relieve some of her cramping.

Fitz stared, open-mouthed, as Jemma stripped off completely in front of him. He knew he should probably look away, but all he wanted to do was move closer. He tugged uselessly at the belt around his wrists and whimpered. Not only did he have the physical pain of the ache in his gut, he had the emotional pain of being able to see what he wanted and not be able to reach it.

“Oh god, Jemma,” he whispered hoarsely. “Untie me, please!” His hips were thrusting against the air, but with his hands bound above him, he couldn’t reach his fly.

But Jemma was preoccupied with something.

Her mind raced - Alien biology worked differently. Alien organics had to as well. The poison, whatever it’s components, was acting upon the autonomic nervous system, ratcheting up arousal, rapidly increasing heart rate, disrupting digestion -

“ _Ahh_!” She cried, curling up, fetal, as if it could guard from the pain. Was it killing her? It felt like it was killing her - the only time it seemed to ease was when -

She squeezed her eyes shut, grimacing as another wave of pain coursed through her - The only time it ceased was with stimulation. _The release of pleasure hormones - dopamine, oxytocin, endorphins - It was feeding off their arousal. It had to be! Urging them to orgasm._

Her head lolled back and forth on the floor as her knees moved up and spread apart. She curled them up into her chest, sliding her hand down her torso, over the skin of her lower belly, between her thighs as another spasm of pain rocked through her. Then her hand was moving where Fitz’s had been not long before.

Fitz watched, mouth agape, as Jemma began to masturbate, not three feet from where he was standing. He could see how wet she was, hear the slickly damp noises of her fingers moving through her folds, smell the salty tang of her arousal… but he couldn’t touch her.

A sigh of relief slipped from her mouth as her fingers moved along her folds, gliding up and around her clit at every pass. She was so close, already. Her toes were curling as she bit her lip, trying desperately not to thrust her hips up to meet her hand - trying, irrationally, to maintain at least that modicum of modesty with Fitz, sick and in pain, right there.

“Oh, _oh_!” she keened, so near the edge, right on the precipice, so ready to throw herself off that cliff.

Whimpering, seemingly stuck, her thighs shaking from exertion, sweat beading on her skin, she turned to Fitz, her expression one of anguished yearning.

“It’s not working,” she cried, throwing her head back as her hands worked feverishly between her legs. “I can’t come! This _has_ to be the solution!”

A strangled moan fell from her lips. “It’s feeding off the pleasure hormones! It needs us to orgasm! Why isn’t it working Fitz?” She begged him for an answer, desperate for a solution to their problem as much as for an orgasm.

“I-” his voice cut off with a gasp of both pleasure and pain as he watched her struggle in front of him. “I don’t know, Jemma,” he said, straining against his ties, desperate to go to her. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

Jemma shuddered at the endearment and closed her eyes. “Maybe,” she panted, stilling her fingers. " - Maybe I can't, not like this, but- _arrrghhh_!" she cried, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes, her face a mask of anguish.

"Oh, Jem, sweetheart, baby girl, untie me, lemme help you," Fitz begged, unable to stop the reflexive tears that filled his eyes at seeing her in pain.

"My head's all..."she trailed off, her eyes focused on the way his chest glistened in the blue emergency light, the lean muscles rising and falling as he panted, the shape of his cock pressing out against his fly. She gulped and squirmed and slid closer on the floor before she shook her head. "I need to focus on an antidote, and all I can think of is..." Her hand fluttered wanly in his direction, "And..."

Fitz nodded slowly, not looking away. “Maybe that's it though. It's feeding off the pleasure hormones, so maybe your head'll clear if you...uh, if you... _you know_ ,” he suggested.

She nodded back, still staring into his eyes, and that deep pull she’d felt earlier was back. "Then we can synthesize the antidote and we'll go back to normal, to the way things were," she said softly.

Fitz's guts churned. He told himself it was the poison. "Yeah. Back. Normal," he grunted. The, more softly, he insisted, "Start again."

“What am I _doing_ , Fitz?” she asked, embarrassed and aroused. Her fingers started to move again, slowly. "I _can't_ \- with you just..."

Fitz gulped, eyes widening, as he realized that she was about to stop again. "You _can_ , Jemma. It's embarassin', sure, but - it's _me_."

 _Oh fuck, she's touchin' herself in front of me. I'm watching Jemma Simmons, buttoned-up lab partner, brilliant genius,wank herself off right in front of me._ He froze for a moment, his cock growing somehow, even against the vice grip of his jeans.

"It's just me. Lemme help you. We'll fix this, like we always do. Together. I'll talk you through it."

The sheer vocabulary issues inherent in his suggestion were enough to give him pause, but then she winced in pain again, and he knew he had to do this for her. For both of them.

“Touch your,” he took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “You’re… touching your vag-... your cu-... your … your _self_ between your legs,” he began, and he’d give anything to be able to mop up the sweat that was dripping from his brow.

“Yes, I am,” she moaned. “And I’m so wet, Fitz. So wet for you.” She blushed at the implication, but she couldn’t deny that it was true.

“For me?” he asked, eyes lighting up despite the cramps in his belly.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, swirling her finger around her clit. “I’ve never been this wet before.”

“I’ve never been this hard before,” Fitz replied, wishing he’d managed to unzip before she’d tied him to the damn counter. “I’m so hard for you, Jemma.”

“Oh, god, Fitz,” she cried. “I don’t want our first time to be because of some alien plant.” And yet, her hips were pistoning faster and faster now. She no longer cared that he was there and he was watching, she just needed to come.

“I know, Jemma,” Fitz groaned, memorizing every stroke and caress so that he could do them for her next time. “I don’t either.”

The air filled with the frustrated breaths of the two scientists as Jemma worked herself ever closer to orgasm without being able to achieve it.

“But…”

“But?”

“Well, it’s just that…”

“Yes?”

“There are lots of things we can do together that aren’t… _that_.”

“You mean… anything but?”

Jemma nodded, and then quickly shook her head. “ _No_! Oh what am I _saying_!”

She drew her hand away and pushed herself to sitting, pulling her knees up tight to her chest, embarrassed, though she still shook with unreleased tension.

Fitz whimpered in his bonds, sagging forward, onto his knees. How she could have that kind of self-control - he was tied up and he could barely keep himself together. He tugged his arms overhead once more, throwing his weight towards where she was.

“It would be wrong, Fitz! I’d be taking advantage of you!”

“Trust me when I say you wouldn’t - and if you were, _god_ , I’d love it,” He panted, the fabric around the head of his cock becoming uncomfortably damp. He fell back against the bar with another surge of pain. “ _Shit_!”

He pushed himself back up to standing.

“We’re effectively drugged! We can’t consent! I can’t - as much as, _shit_ , as much as I want to,” Jemma began, unable to stop herself from crawling forward, back arching, hips swaying as she came towards him. “I can’t do that to you. I care about you too much.”

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing. He blocked out the image of her tits, swinging pendulously with her approach. Her control was fading, he could tell. Her face pressed against the side of his knee, like a cat. Her hands wound around his calf and he whimpered, trying feverishly to find some control for both of them.

“Shit, Jemma, baby girl...” His voice was tremulous with need. He shook his head, cleared his throat. It was his turn to be strong for them, her control snapping more and more the higher her fingers travelled up his leg. “What’ll the effect be if we keep on the way we are? Temperatures climbing, hearts racing - we’re heading for heart attacks, aren’t we?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she moaned into his denim-clad knee.

“And if we…?”

“At least a 70% chance - heart rates should normalize, temperatures drop, we should stabilize enough to figure out what’s happening. But it’s only a -”

“Stop gap measure. Right.” A full body shake coursed through Fitz, and he grunted sharply behind his teeth.

“Jemma, sweetheart, look at me,” he begged.

Her face turned to him, and his heart pounded hard in his chest as their eyes connected. “I want this. _Christ_ , Jem, I’ve wanted it since that time you made me go swimming at the Academy -”

“Is that why you never - Because I thought it was just a fear of water, but -”

Fitz groaned with sudden exasperation, “s’not _really_ the time, _is_ it, Jemma?”

She shook her head and quieted.

“Fuck, I want you, I’ve wanted you every second of every day for _years_. Regardless of this fucking alien sex plant with its aphrodisiac splooge, _I want you_. I consent, do you understand, Jemma?”

Wordlessly she nodded, scrambling to her tip-toes to unbuckle the belt that held his arms above his head. His skin was white and bloodless against his wrists, and his hands dropped heavily when she freed them.

“-an’ we don’t have to...Not if…” He trailed off, the tip of his nose brushing against her temple. He pressed a soft kiss to her cheekbone. “- I'll do anything you want me to, you know that,” he whispered.

She sighed as his lips pressed chastely against her face, her eyelashes fanning against her cheeks. “You dear man,” she murmurred.

Jemma tilted her head up, slotting her lips against his. Good heavens, she loved the way his lips felt against hers, she thought, as he pressed closer. His mouth was a calamity.

Ardently, she wrapped her arms around him, her fingers carding through his hair until finally they broke apart, panting.

“You always take care of me,” she said, backing him up against the counter. “Let me take care of you this time.” She knelt in front of him, her hands at his fly.

Fitz held his breath as she unbuttoned his jeans. Even just the gentle press of her fingers pulling down his zipper was getting him achingly close to coming. Thinking about her using her mouth… He shuddered and closed his eyes, unable to stop the images popping up in his brain. The plant wasn’t the only thing that was going to explode all over her face.

“Wait,” he said, and he immediately cursed himself.

Jemma was just pulling his jeans down over his hips, enjoying the sight of his hard cock tenting his shorts. The last thing she wanted to do right now was wait, but she also knew that she wasn’t thinking clearly just now. “Why?” she asked, kissing him through the cotton.

“Oh god,” Fitz thrust his hips against the warmth of her breath. She was _right there_ and he was stopping her, and he couldn’t remember why. Something about coming on her face. Fuck, that was a hot idea. No. He shook his head, tried to clear it. Finally, he remembered.

“We don’t have a condom,” he said, despair clear in his voice.

Jemma looked up at him and pulled his shorts down, too. His cock popped free of the waistband and stood up proud and hard above her face. Not looking away from his eyes, she took it in her hand and brought it down so she could kiss the tip.

“Have you had sex with anyone since your last medical?” she asked, rubbing the head of his cock against the soft skin of her cheek.

Her hand was squeezing and releasing him with a wonderful rhythm, and it took him a moment to process her question.

“No?” he answered, wondering who on earth she thought he might have been with.

She moved down and wiggled her tongue at the base of his shaft before licking her way up to the tip. “Have you been exposed to anyone else’s blood or other bodily fluids?”

Her clinical questions opposed her lascivious actions, and suddenly their doctor role play was reversed. His heart jumped into his throat as her tongue swirled around the head of his cock and she kissed the tip one more time. He frowned even as he shuddered, and tried to remember. “No,” he said. “Why do you…?”

“We were both clean at our last check ups,” she explained, wanking him faster with her right hand as her left came up to cradle his balls. “And I’ve got an IUD,” she continued.

“So…?” he prompted, finally allowing himself to tangle his fingers in her hair.

“So…” she answered with a wicked grin on her face. And then she opened her mouth and took him inside.

His hands tightened in her hair and he squeezed his eyes shut so tight he saw starbursts. Nothing he’d ever felt in his life felt as good as her mouth on his cock. He felt streams of pleasure starting at the top of his head and the tips of his toes and they shot through his body to end up in his dick.

“Jemma,” he groaned, gasping and pushing his hips against her face.

She took more of him into her mouth, releasing his cock from her fist to reach around and grab his ass with both hands. She dug her nails in and pulled him in closer, then moved her head back, sucking along his entire length. When she had only the tip left in her mouth, she tilted her head and descended again.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he moaned, forcing his eyes to open again so that he could watch her as she worked on him. She was kneeling in front of him, legs spread and tits jiggling with each thrust. God, those tits. He couldn’t believe she was doing this for him and he hadn’t even had a chance to touch her tits yet. He was definitely going to remedy that fact as soon as fucking possible.

Jemma could taste the Cowper’s fluid leaking out of his cock, and with each drop of it on her tongue, the pain in her gut lessened. Her eyes widened as she realized what that might mean.

“Fitz,” she gasped, catching her breath as she let his cock drop from her lips.

“Jemma?” he asked, not sure what she wanted but willing to give her anything.

“I need you to come in my mouth, okay?” she asked before descending enthusiastically on him once more.

“You need…?” he asked, and then he was thrusting against her lips again, fingers twisting in her hair. “You want me to come in your mouth?” he asked, unable to quite believe what was happening. It was like he’d suddenly been transported into every porno flick he’d ever watched.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, not slowing down. If anything, she redoubled her efforts.

“You want to taste my come?” he asked, just like the actors on those movies, and he could feel himself getting close. “Want me to shoot my load down your throat?” He was pushing her down in time to his thrusts and the sound of her moans was filling his ears. “You want to swallow every last drop of my come?” he asked, and then it was happening.

The taste of him filled her mouth in spurts. She swallowed as much as she could, but he just kept pulsing against her tongue and shaking beneath her hands.

He pulled out, twitching wanly as she brought her hand up to the corner of her mouth to catch the seed that had escaped and suck it absently off her thumb. “ _Fuck_ , Jem.”

Fitz’s knees were weak as he leaned back against the counter, pulling his pants and trousers back up his thighs. “That was just -”

“Fascinating!” She scrambled for her discarded clipboard and pencil, “I agree!”

“...I was going to say amazin’, but -”

“Oh yes! That too, _quite._  I can’t believe I didn’t realize how big -”

“Well, I don’t like to _brag_ -” he blushed, hooking the button of his jeans closed.

“-of a help your ejaculate would actually be when _ingested_!”

“Wait, what?” he cut in. “Are you -”

“Much!” Sse sighed with relief, smiling. “It makes sense though - your bodily secretions must have had some sort of antigen, nullifying the active molecule in the digested plant ejaculate - Especially helpful for the plant. One wouldn't want to kill one's food source!”

Fitz grinned cheekily, “So basically my cock is magic?”

“Not magic, but potentially complicit in a scientific breakthrough,” Jemma agreed affectionately, tossing the clipboard aside to kiss him happily, full on the mouth.

He could taste the salty remnants of his seed on her tongue. Fitz wound his arm around her naked waist, splaying his hand hotly against the curve of her bum. She shivered needfully, and he swallowed her gasp as he squeezed her cheek in his palm.

He pulled back, taking in her dilated pupils, her panting red lips, and remembered how tightly wound she’d been, how close she was herself, and how long she’d been riding the edge.

And then he doubled over, clutching at his belly.

Jemma caught his weight as he toppled, the pain lancing through him so strongly his body was wracked with shakes.

“Different hormones - different combination of antigens,” she realized suddenly.

“Fitz, darling,” Jemma said, rubbing her hand along his back as she leveraged him to the floor. “I think you’re going to need to...well, perform cunnilingus.”

“You want me to -”

“Go down on me. Eat me out,” she explained as he came back to himself.

“For science!” she added brightly.

Fitz’s brow quirked up as he scooted closer to her, laying on his side. He swept his hand along the outside curve of her thigh to play softly at the underside of her breast.

She sucked in a quick breath as her nipple puckered.

“For science, eh?”

“Mhmm,” Jemma was struggling with words. The way his fingers were brushing sparks against the skin of her breast was detonating tiny explosions in the word centre of her brain, the shrapnel tearing through her thoughts. “‘nd health.”

“Yours. Your health, _ooh_!” she mewled, her back arching as she thrust her breast involuntarily into the heat of his palm. He had her nipple pinched between his forefinger and thumb, and was tugging on it experimentally, his other thumb stroking her other nipple to hardness.

“Very self-sacrificing of you,” he grinned up at her as his head descended, his mouth hot and wet against the inside hollow of her cleavage. His tongue tasted her skin as she keened and shuddered. His mouth was close, so very close to where she wanted it, and so maddeningly far.

“-make you feel better, just trust -” she squirmed, pressing her thighs together uselessly and gulping as his other hand worked her nipple into a firm bead.

How she’d never pictured him like this before, she didn’t know. It was, _god_ , it was _pornographic_ \- his blond curls against her chest, the mischievous glint in those blue eyes, the way he stared at her, watching her reaction as he swirled his tongue around her nipple before tugging it between his teeth.

She cried out, tossing her head back, pushing her nipple further into his mouth, breathing heavily under his ministrations. After a moment, her nipple fell out of his mouth with a suctioning pop, and he said, sinfully, “A regular Florence Nightingale, you are.”

She hadn’t noticed, until now, how his other hand had abandoned her left breast. His fingertips brushed against her ribs, trailing a river of fire along their tips, until they dipped, delving between her thighs.

His grip was firm and strong as he pushed her thighs apart. His mouth hot and moist and perfect as it returned to her breast.

“Oh _god_ , Fitz!” she gasped as his fingers moved inside her. They were filling a gaping chasm that ached with emptiness and all she wanted was more. “ _More_!”

His stomach tightened and cramped again and his body jerked, his fingers pushing hard inside her. She let out a little shriek, and as soon as his spasm subsided he slid them out of her.

“I’m so sorry, Jem…” he started, looking at her with a slightly panicked face.

“Lick them,” she panted, looking at his damp fingers.

“What?” he asked, looking down at his hand.

“Lick your fingers,” she said and licked her lips. “My body’s secretions should contain the proper antigens to help with your cramping.” She palmed his cheek, caressing it with her thumb. “It’ll help,” she said gently.

Trusting her judgment as well as her science, Fitz brought his fingers up to his lips. He closed his eyes as her scent filled his nose, and then his pink tongue poked out and licked the tips. The taste of her was sexy and exciting, and he licked his fingers from his palm to their ends. Opening his eyes, he looked down at her.

“I do feel a bit better,” he said with just a hint of surprise in his voice. He trailed his hand slowly down the soft skin of her stomach, tickling her in the most sensual way as he made his way back between her legs.

“I told you,” she gasped, angling her hips to better capture his touch. “I said you would.”

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her, their tongues tangling and her arms pulling him down on top of her. His fingers had moved down to her pussy again, sliding along her slit and up over her clit before dropping back inside. He thrust them in and out of her slowly, enjoying the hot, wet feel of her around him before pulling them back out again.

Jemma skimmed her hand over his shoulder and down his arm until she could take his wrist between her fingers. She pulled it up, but not to his lips as he’d expected. Instead, she brought his hand to her breast and arched into his palm.

“Oh really?” he asked, spreading her wetness over her nipple.

She nodded, desperate for his mouth on her breast again. “Please?” she asked.

“Please what?” he asked, pushing his fingers inside her once more to gather up her wetness before bringing them back up to paint her chest. “What do you want, Jemma?” He reached down a third time, and now her nipple was shining in the blue lights of the lab.

She kissed him again, hard and hungry, and then pushed his face down to her breast. “Suck on my nipples, Fitz,” she begged. “Lick my come off my tits.” She’d been flushed ever since the effects of the plant had taken hold, but now the redness spread itself all the way down her chest. She didn’t know where these lewd thoughts were coming from, she only knew that they were pushing her towards the biggest orgasm of her life.

Fitz licked a path from her cleavage to her areola, but didn’t take her nipple into his mouth. Instead, he moved down her breast again to lick a new patch of skin clean of her juices, and then he did it again and again. Each time, he stopped short just before arriving where she wanted him to be, and rather than take her nipple between his lips or tease it with his tongue, he blew warm air across it and watched it pucker even more.

His fingers continued to thrust inside her, reaching in ever further and skimming along that place that made her shudder. Once her breast was cleaned except its nipple, he brought his fingers back up to dampen the other one.

Jemma lay on the floor, mewling and whimpering and unable to stay still. She clutched at his back, pulled at his hair, bucked her hips up to meet his fingers, and still she hadn’t come. Every nerve ending in her body was alive and waiting. She needed it so bad.

His mouth finally latched onto her nipple, and she shuddered a moan, scrambling for purchase on his skin, her nails digging into his back. “Oh, oh, Fitz!” She cried out as her hips angled to meet his thrusting hand.

He grinned against the fullness of her breast. He couldn’t bloody believe it.

That weird gonadal plant was his personal fucking _cupid_. Here he was, mouth on her tits, her great, amazing, perfect tits, leaving hickeys on her cleavage, while her nails carved lines into his back, and her breath was hot and moist and buffeting the tips of his ear.

Those blasted Kree had done a hell of a number on his love life - taking the love _of_ his life and spiriting her away for a month and a half, but he had to admit, _this_ , having her quaking uncontrollably beneath him, begging him for an orgasm, being the one to make her feel this way, being the one who slid his fingers and - _fuck_ , if he was lucky, his _cock_ , into her tightness, he could die a happy man.

“Just - forget the sodding plant, Fitz,” Jemma begged, her insistent fingers clutching at the skin of his ass under the waistband of his jeans and shorts. The way they scraped sent chills trilling along his skin as she pushed them forcefully down, hooking her heels into the backs of his thighs to drag his weight down on top of her.

He groaned at the contact, her heat enveloping his cock, even through the layer of denim. He pulled his fingers from her, gripped her waist, and thrust, rolling his cock against her clit as he groaned.

Her voice was high and tight and she was close, and he needed to be inside her, needed it like he needed air to breathe or food to eat. He rolled off onto his heels as he made fast work of his jeans, pushing them down his legs. His eyes dragged along her body, naked and flushed, watching him watch her, her chest rising and falling in time with her panting breaths.

Discarding his trousers, he knelt between her thighs, running his thumb along her seam, and opening her. He lapped briefly at her folds, flicking his tongue a few times against her clit as she pressed up against him, the ache in his gut easing, only to be replaced by another, deeper, more needful tension.

Her fingers clawed desperately at his shoulder, begging him to fill her.

He rucked up against her, trying to position himself, wetting his length with her juices and bumping her clit at each pass.

Fitz decided, watching her head toss and turn beneath him, the way her cheeks hollowed into a desirous ‘oh’ each time he nudged her clit, that this had to be his very favourite thing about having sex with Jemma - watching her while he worked her body like a machine, learning how to tune it, how to make it rev with colour, spilling against her freckled shoulders and chest, how to make her hum with need.

He thought it was his favourite. He was wrong.

He groaned, his breath catching in his throat as he found her entrance, the head of his cock slipping inside slowly. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, she was tight as hell, her walls hot and moist and squeezing his shaft as he slowly pushed into her.

“ _Fuck_ , oh fuck, _yes Jem_. Oh God,” he grunted in a litany against her neck.

She whimpered. It hurt so beautifully, the stretch and thrust she felt with him inside her. She hadn’t been surprised with his size. She was the Playground’s resident medical specialist, after all - she had access to confidential medical files, and had on one memorable girls’ night with Bobbi and Skye, also had access to enough alcohol to make surreptitiously scanning her best friend’s medical files seem like a sound decision.

What she hadn’t been prepared for was his girth. He laid thick and heavy and unmoving inside her, the back of his thighs quivering while he held himself still above her, waiting for her to adjust to his size.

“ _Fitz_?” Jemma said breathily, giggles escaping, “remember when you said you didn’t like to brag?”

He lifted his head, his pained expression transforming to a quizzical one.

She giggle-snorted behind her palm, and then gasped, the movement having pulled him even deeper inside her. “ _Brag_ ,” she instructed him. “You should brag. _Oh god_ , should you ever.”

He blushed and grinned and bowed his head to nip at her neck. “Oh yeah?” he asked, finally moving inside her. “You think so?” He pushed his hips slowly forward, rocking them slightly against her.

Her eyes rolled back and she gripped him tight, her legs spreading wider to better accommodate him. “I really do,” she panted, pushing her hips up to meet his.

As he withdrew, she was filled with that aching emptiness again, and she squeezed her walls around him, trying to keep him inside.

“ _Fuck_ , Jemma,” he groaned into her ear. “You keep that up and I won’t last long at all.” He pistoned his hips back into her, thrusting a bit faster this time.

She gasped against his neck, her fingers curling against his scalp as they threaded through his hair. “Who says I’m going to last any longer?” she asked, closing her eyes and reveling in the feel of him filling her so completely.

He palmed her tit again, squeezing her nipple between his thumb and the side of his finger, and they both moaned in satisfaction. His thrusts were speeding up now. He was pulling out farther and pushing in deeper, and the wet sounds of their lovemaking rivalled their gasps.

With each new thrust, Jemma’s moans were getting louder and higher in pitch. “Yes, yes, yes, _yes_ ,” she gasped with each one, unable to say anything more. She was so tightly wound now that she was almost scared to come, unsure if she would survive such an intense burst of pleasure.

And then suddenly the world exploded.

Fitz thrust hard and deep inside her, and she let out an uncharacteristic wail. He looked at her in surprise, freezing where he was, and she wrapped her whole body around him as she came.

He stared into her beautiful brown eyes as her walls squeezed and spasmed around him. The sweet, exquisite pain of her orgasm was written all over her face, and he stilled his movements to watch her as it happened.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t _think_ at all as the waves of pleasure, so intense they physically hurt, ripped through her body, and through it all she stared into the calm blue eyes that had always been there for her. She didn’t dare blink, in case she got lost without them.

As her grip on him loosened and her ability to breathe returned, Fitz thrust slowly into her again. He hadn’t finished yet, and he wanted to see her come for him again.

Jemma shook her head, her eyes wide and her mouth opened in surprise as she felt herself climbing the ladder again. Her hips worked against his without her conscious thought, and then he reached down between them to stroke her clit and the waves of pleasure were washing over her again.

This time, when she gripped him tight and spasmed around him, he couldn’t hold back. This time, when he watched her come and stared into her eyes, his own face contorted with the feeling of breaking into a million pieces and coming back together inside her.

She felt him tense and then shiver as he started to come inside her. With each spurt inside her, they both gasped and moaned, and then on the last salvo the collapsed, spent.

* * *

 “Well…”Skye cleared her throat, looking around the empty surveillance room, her cheeks burning and her eyes wide, making sure she was alone. “That was…”

She gulped and stood. Her knees were sore and painful from having spent the last however long kneeling, staring - unable to look away from the trainwreck of Kree-plant-assisted nerd-sex - with the forgotten popcorn bowl clutched in one hand.

“That was…” She searched for the escaped word as she brushed remnants of buttery popcorn off her shirt. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, quickly deleting the file off of the main server.

In all of the shudder-inducing, smut-ridden Avengers fanfiction she’d read (“Shut up, Coulson. You forget I can access your computer - and your, frankly,  _explicit_ \- Captain America/Peggy story whenever I want. And let me just tell you, boobs don’t work like that!”), Skye had never thought she’d see the day when a plot contrivance straight out of the bowels of the internet would somehow miraculously appear in the playground lab. Nor had she ever thought that she would have watched, mouth falling open, turning six successive shades of red, as her best friends went down on each other, and fucked (rather inventively) to the soulful strains of Marvin Gaye.

“That was…” Skye’s memory flitted through a few of her personal favourite moments from the unwitting sextape she’d just watched, and puffed out an overheated breath. “... _educational_.”

She cleared her throat one more time, nodded (to no one), and strode out of the room, absolutely gobsmacked.

She needed a drink.

Scratch that, she needed a smoke.


End file.
